Free Massie by Lisi Harrison Page A

house as Lindsey’s hair would be at a Pantene convention —frighteningly out of place.
    Massie set her caddy down on a pink corduroy beanbag and slumped below the porthole-shaped window. She triple-tapped it, inviting Lindsey to cross the room and join her.
    When she did, Massie circled her twice, making mental notes.
    “What?”
Lindsey released her green towel to a Mexican blanket turned rug.
    “The ocean has given you a major case of high-and-dry.”
    “What’s that?” Lindsey sat. The beans rustled and sank under her fit body.
    “Surfing has toned you. Your butt is nice and
high
. But everything above it is d-r-y.” Massie handed Lindsey the purple Be Reflective mirror and eyed her blue-and-black board shorts with contempt. “I’m sure I speak for everyone on Long Island when I say I’d like to see less coverage on the bottom and
ah
lot more on top. Starting with your face.”
    “Seriously?” Lindsey touched her scaly cheek like some post-op patient who’d just removed the bandages. “Is that why I’m always itchy?”
    “And blotchy and uneven and often called Lizard Kearns behind your back? Yes.”
    Lindsey stood. “What should I do?”
    “For starters, how about a pair of bikini bottoms.”
    Massie pulled several purple boxes from her caddy. One by one, she laid them out on a low bamboo magazine table. “When you start wearing bikinis, everyone will realize you’re a girl. And if you
look
like a girl, you should
feel
like a girl, right?”
    Lindsey blinked her bloodshot eyes in agreement.
    “So allow me to introduce Be Supple all-over body whip, Be Flawless foundation, and Be Silky conditioner. Oh, and let’s not forget Be Slick hot-oil treatment, which you need to apply to your scalp aysap.” Massie held up her hand and rubbed her fingers against her thumb. “Your hair is seriously sucking the moisture of this room. You should consider a humidifier until the conditioner kicks in. I’m finding it hard to breathe.”
    “But I was planning on surfing later.” Lindsey scratched her sunburned forehead.
    “Were you also planning on filing your nails with your lips? Because they are about as smooth as an emery board.”
    “Wait! I know what you’re doing,” Lindsey narrowed her already-narrow green eyes. “You’re trying to make me feel bad about myself so I’ll buy your stuff.”
    “No, I’m trying to make you feel bad about yourself so you stop looking
bad
. You are under absolutely no obligation to buy.” Massie handed her a tube of Be Slick. “Just try it. Wet your hair, rub it in, and rinse it out after five minutes. I’ll take it from there.”
    Lindsey lifted her green towel off the floor and padded off to the bathroom. She returned shortly, with comb tracks in her blond hair and a smile. “Not a single tangle!”
    “I told you.” Massie beamed. It felt good to put herself aside for a minute to help the less fortunate. Finally, she understood her mother’s addiction to charity parties.
    “What else can you do?” Lindsey love-patted her wet hair.
    “Hmmmm . . .” Massie folded her arms across her mother’s vintage red-and-orange Pucci shift dress. “I assume you like the natural look, so I’d like to keep it simple. Tinted moisturizer for extreme flakiness, cheek stain, under-eye cream, lid concealer, a palate of neutral shadows, blue eyeliner to reduce redness, brown waterproof mascara, cheekbone highlighter, lip exfoliator, lip quencher, lip gloss, brow remover, brow rebuilder, and rose-scented face mist to counteract the fishy smell of the ocean.”
    “Do you have anything to make my lips look fuller?”
    “How full? Garner full or Johansson full?”
    “Johansson.”
    “How much time do you have?” Massie raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
    “Well, since I’m not surfing today . . .” Lindsey peeked at her hula-girl wall clock. “Until bedtime.”
    A few hours later, Massie could hardly recognize the girl in front of her. Lindsey’s sparkling green eyes